Hedonistic
by Dolorous Doll
Summary: Derek can recall how it happened, when, what every sensation felt like but for the life of him he can't remember why he let it happen. Halemore AU - Prostitution - underage sex, past emotional and physical abuse.
1. Hedonistic

Derek can recall how it happened, when, what every sensation felt like but for the life of him he can't remember _why_ he let it happen. Why he allowed himself to fall into a lustfully depraved relationship with one Jackson Whittemore.

Jackson's an enigma an exorbitant amount of issues shoved into a living breathing containment of flesh.

Its dawn and Derek's driving though town on his way home from his job at the docks, slinging freshly caught fish. He reeks of the ocean and fish guts and he can still feel the slimy hardness of the fish's scales beneath his nails from when he had filleted them.

He stops at a set of traffic lights and one handily opens his pack of cigarettes, using the car cigarette lighter to ignite it and he knows the nicotine isn't going to mix well with the lingering smell of fish but he can't bring himself to give a fuck.

Derek lives in a shitty neighbourhood. The whole place is a slum, with hookers and druggies lining every corner. It's not a nice place to live but if Derek wanted nice he would have left a long time ago but as it is he doesn't want nice or habitable because there both comforts he's gone without for such a long time.

When he parks up at his apartment building he pushes out his radio and shoves it into his duffel to take upstairs with him, because honestly he wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to steal it. People have had their cars broken into for a lot less.

He works out once he's inside, does pull ups using a bar he fitted in at the top of the doorway to the kitchen. He showers, uses the last of the lime and lemon shower gel that's been hanging in his shower for weeks even though the bottles squashed to shit from his attempts to get the last tendrils of it out.

The only bad thing about having been at work this early Derek notes is that he can never get to sleep. He's restless and it's too bright out. He opens his fridge and noticing that his groceries are scarce he decides to pick up a couple of things.

He mostly gets canned goods because they last for a long time and the cans are big enough for a serving of one. It's not as if he needs to cook for anyone else.

It's when he's walking out of the seven eleven that he sees him. A boy just shy of seventeen by the looks of him, full lipped with hazy blue eyes. He stumbles out of the alley, the sleeve of his hoody pulled over his hand as he brings it up to wipe at his mouth and yeah he's definitely wiping away come. A greasy looking guy walks out of the alley a few seconds later, legs stretching outward whiles his hand palms against the crotch of his trousers. The greasy guy gives the teen a nod before his fingers flick at blue eyes cheek.

Derek sneers because the touch is intimate and he can almost feel the way the teen bristles at the contact. He doesn't know why he's still standing there, why he's still watching as the greaser walks away and the teen pulls a small wad of bills out of his pocket, hastily thumbs through them before shoving them back into his hoody.

The kid looks up then and freezes when he catches Derek's eye. Derek snaps out of his stupor long enough to see the teen look anxious then pissed.

"What the hell are you staring at?" He grouches and Derek out of habit goes to snap back with a venomous comment or some type of threat but what comes out instead is.

"How much?"

The boy looks taken back for a minute before stepping closer making the conversation a bit less public.

"Depends what you're after." He says and Derek honestly doesn't know what he wants from this kid.

Derek hasn't had sex in over nine months and he's almost forgotten what its like to have someone else touch him. This kid looks like bad news, he's a whore he could have any type of S.T.I or S.T.D. He could be dangerous. But Derek reminds himself that if he wanted safe he wouldn't be here, he wouldn't be talking prices with a whore who looks like he only experienced puberty about two years ago.

"A blowjob." He says and the kid sniffs, looks away.

"40 bucks." That's a lot of money - on Derek's wages anyway- still he just grunts then inclines his head towards his apartment block which is an easy ten minute walk away from the seven eleven.

The kid follows him, no further questioning, nothing. Derek could be a serial killer for all he knows. Does the kid have no regard for his life what so ever? Apparently not because he follows Derek all the way up the dodgy spiral staircase to his apartment and doesn't even flinch when Derek slams the door shut, deadbolts it.

Derek's apartment is open plan a kitchenette to the left, a pull out springy piece of shit bed to the right and to the far left there's a door that leads to a box bathroom. The only good thing about it is the full length windows on the far end of the room, it's not like there's much of a view but it's the most appealing thing about the apartment.

The kid stands between the kitchenette and bed, watching as Derek places his grocery bags down onto the work top. Once he's put them down he's not sure what to do. He's never paid for sex before, hasn't even entertained the idea of it.

He turns and walks towards the kid, eyes falling down to the come stain that's white and crusted on his hoody sleeve. He swallows feeling chicken shit until the kid speaks.

"Money first." He says, face hard but eyes shining and Derek nods before stepping over to his bed. He can hear the kid take steps after him, close behind. Derek stops before turning around and the kid seems to curl into himself when Derek's penetrative stare bores into him.

"Turn around." Derek says because like he's going to let this stranger know where he keeps his money. The kid rolls his eyes but obliges.

Derek reaches under the mattress to in-between the bed boards where he leaves emergency money. He pulls out forty dollars before tucking the other sixty away.

He stands then clears his throat. The kid turns, raises an eyebrow as he picks the money out of Derek's hand. The bills feel cold and crisp as they slide out of his palm and Derek feigns nonchalance as he watches the kid count the money. The money disappears into his pocket then he's pushing Derek down to sit on the edge of his bed. The mattress squeaks, then the boy's slipping down onto his knees, both hands working together to undo Derek's belt, zipper and button. He pushes at the open V of Derek's jeans, pulls his half hard cock out, stretching the material of his boxers down to just beneath his balls.

He jerks him for a bit, palm unnaturally smooth and Derek exhales heavily through his nostrils as he feels his cock fill up. Then the kids sealing his mouth around the curved tip of Derek's cock, cheeks hollowing out, simultaneously sucking and licking at the head. He pulls off for a minute then he's just tonguing at Derek's foreskin like he's fascinated with it. He runs his thumb over the wet head, pushes his foreskin down and watches as a drop of precome splurges out, the substance thick and translucent against the shiny redness of Derek's cock.

He lowers his head a moment later; taking more than just the head into his mouth and fuck it feels good it feels amazing. There's something undeniably filthy about it. Having a teenaged whore on his knees for him, head bobbing like mad, jaw flexing and working as if he's double jointed, saliva slicking the way, little wet noises filling the air.

Derek moans, deep and sweet, one hand going to cradle the back of the kid's head. He drops back on one elbow, keeping himself perched up enough so that he can see the teen. He can't bring himself to lie down because he doesn't want to miss this, can't miss this. The show the kids putting on and it doesn't even look intentional either but it's a fucking picture none the less.

His long brown eyelashes – so light they almost look blonde, flutter hastily when Derek shoves his hips up. The kid makes gagging noises, little choking sounds and Derek grits his teeth around a moan, curls the fingers of his hand on the kids head into his hair and yanks his head further down as he comes.

The kid doesn't even attempt to swallow it, his tongue just spasms, mouth spitting out Derek's come but with his mouth still full of Derek's cock the come goes everywhere. Over the kids chin, down over Derek's cock until it lathers over his balls.

Chest heaving from his orgasm Derek realises he's still got a hand in the kids hair so he lets go slowly, flexes each finger against the teen's scalp.

"You're good at that." Derek says before he can think better of it and he wonders if sexual etiquette has changed much in the nine months he hasn't gotten any action. He must have said something right though because the kid blushes a little, pink tinting his cheeks before he looks away, wipes at his mouth.

"Mind getting me a tissue." He says and Derek clears his throat before tucking himself back into his pants. He tries to avoid getting come on his hands but it's everywhere so with slippery sticky fingers he adjusts his trousers and steps through to the bathroom.

He's just collecting some tissue paper when he hears the front door slam shut. With widening eyes and a haunting realization Derek rushes out of the bathroom, his eyes going around to all the points in the apartment. The kids gone. He runs over to the bed, kneels down and reaches under the mattress. The kids gone and so's his sixty bucks.

"Son of a bitch."


	2. Anomalous

Derek doesn't like to admit how much effort and time he spends in trying to find this kid. But this kid, this cocksure, resourceful sneaky son of a bitch stole his money and Derek sure as hell wants it back.

He goes back to the seven eleven that he first spotted the kid at, searches the alley's around it and the usual hot spots for the prostitutes. It's a week later when Derek starts contemplating whether to ask around. It's a small town and someone who looks like the kid must be well known especially offering what he does, but then if he did ask people would know why Derek's associated with him and that's no one's business but Derek's.

It's the beginning of the second week that he spots him jogging down the street, late at night and from the distance it must look like the beginnings of a terrible slasher movie because Derek cut's his lights out and tails him in his car all the way to a rundown multi story apartment building.

There's something oddly thrilling about following the kid up the stairs, quietly and undetectable. And Derek wonders for a moment how fucked up he is because he could have confronted the kid at anytime not followed him to his house.

He waits at the end of the hall when the kid walks down it and peeks around the corner of the wall to watch him open his door. Once he steps inside his apartment Derek rushes forwards and pushes through the doorway, revels a little in the startled gasp the kid lets out.

He makes this soft little noise when Derek shoves him against the wall, one large hand splayed against his chest, finger just shy of touching his clavicle. He kicks the front door shut.

"You." The kid sneers and Derek smirks.

"Me."

Derek expects him to fight and it's surprising that he doesn't, he's tense beneath Derek's grip but besides that he doesn't move.

"You're a hard person to find." Derek says and the kid smirks.

"You been looking for me this whole time?" Derek doesn't say anything but he thinks his silence is answer enough and its undeniably annoying how with one sentence this kid can make Derek feel like a complete and utter idiot. He's now just realising how insane the whole thing is, the fact that he's spent the past two weeks thinking about nothing else but finding this kid, the one he picked up off the streets.

"You took something from me." Derek supplies, eyes hard.

"Why're you so sour huh? You humiliated at the fact that you had to _pay_ someone for sex, or maybe it's the fact that the person you paid mugged you off?"

There's a noise coming from the doorway a few inches away from Jackson's head and it takes them both a moment to register it but then the doors opening.

Derek's not expecting the child; sleep rumpled and moody looking as she stands in the ajar doorway in an oversized _Guns N Roses_ t-shirt. He uncurls his fingers from around the kids t-shirt, feels the boy tense up beneath him, a thin sheen of sweat adorning his face.

"Jackson." The little girl says almost like a question and the kid – Jackson his names _Jackson_- smiles shakily before kneeling down.

"Hey squirt, what are you doing up?" She moves a tiny fist away from rubbing at her eyes before scowling and her eyes are just like Jackson's, bright and blue, sweet pools of aquamarine.

"You were being noisy." She says, endearingly petulant as if Jackson has told her this a thousand times and now she's just happy she's got the opportunity to say it to him.

Derek's lost, he feels awkward and intrusive. Not only has he spent the last two weeks searching for a teenager who he paid for sex. He also forced his way into his home all over sixty dollars but then Derek has to wonder- has wondered -is he just bothered about the money, or is it something more? Is it strange to feel betrayed by a whore because they stole your money? But he doesn't know Jackson, the teen has no loyalty to Derek, he was looking out for himself and this child whoever she is, so it's obvious why he would take the money. The child that's an enigma on its own, is she Jacksons? She could be Jackson's, they look eerily similar.

"This is my friend." Jackson says and he turns wide pleading eyes to Derek, pupils blown out wide.

"Derek." Derek replies, filling in the blank because he just suddenly realises that Jackson doesn't know his name.

The girl doesn't look convinced and Derek wonders if four year olds are capable of suspecting lies.

"You don't have any friends." She says, brutally honest and to someone her age not at all malicious, either way the words seem to hit a little too close to home. He watches as Jackson looks away, collects himself before turning back a small sad smile on his face.

"You should be in bed." He reprimands and the girl doesn't pout but it's a damn close thing. He picks her up, uses one hand to brush a bit of hair away from her face before he walks into the room through the ajar door. He looks at Derek over his shoulder, a weary and guarded look on his face.

When he comes out a few minutes later Derek forces himself to not feel sorry for this kid, this whore who stole his money, just because he's got a child and lives in the slums doesn't mean he gets to steal from others, steal from Derek. Jackson closes the door to the bedroom quietly before turning to face Derek.

"I want my money." Derek states. "Just because you've got a kid, it doesn't give you the right to steal from me."

Jackson laughs, the sound sharp and dark. "What's so funny?" Derek questions, voice low and somber because he wants this kid to realise he can be a threat and he _will _be if he doesn't get what he came for. The kids so damn cocky, it's irritating beyond belief. He's all too trained in this facade he has up and Derek wants to smash it apart, wants to get a peak at what's beneath.

"Your monies gone genius, I spent it the moment I took it."

"I want my money, I don't care how you get it, just get it." Derek says as he takes a step towards Jackson, boxing him in against the wall, gets close enough to the point that Jackson has to look up at him in order to keep eye contact. And finally the message bleeds through, the intent and seriousness of Derek's statement is recognised. Jackson pales before an idea seems to registers then he parts his lips and licks his tongue across them slowly.

"How about a different kind of payment." He says deliberately breathy, index and middle finger curling into the belt loop of Derek's jeans where he tugs, pulls the older man closer.

"What makes you think that's what I want?" Derek questions but he doesn't pull away and his body is anything but reluctant if anything he pushes closer.

"You've spent the past two weeks looking for me, think that's answer enough." Jackson says lips catching on Derek's and he only has a moment to realise they haven't kissed before he amends that, crushing their mouths together.

The kid throws himself into it, hands pushing up under Derek's t-shirt to scratch at the skin of his abdomen, hips pushing up and rotating to connect and rub their groins together.

"Kitchen...kitchen." The kid gasps against his mouth between harsh kisses. Then Derek's blindly following him through the narrow hallway to the end where they fall through a door and trip backwards into a refrigerator, knocking over several takeout menu's and fridge magnets off of it.

The kissing's good, the physical contact a thrumming ache beneath Derek's skin. He's missed it, the simple act of kissing, touching. The brush of lips, the slick of tongue, the unabashed noises of pleasure.

Jackson pushes him back and Derek makes a growling sound against his mouth, shoves him against the counter because this is the time he gets to have what he wants. Jackson owes him.

The counter digs into his back and Derek's beard leaves tingling heated sensations down his throat and neck but still he bares his throat, let's Derek yank his top up over his head and throw it across the room where it crashes into a cutlery hanger.

When Derek runs his hands up Jackson's arms he startles at the small rigid bumps he feels up the skin of his forearm. He breaks the kiss and pulls back, turning Jackson's arm over so he can get a better look at what he just felt. He suspected but was hoping that it wouldn't be track marks. The lines are sporadic, blood free, most of them closed up to small scars. He looks up at the kid then and he's not sure what his facial expression is like but Jackson's is closed off.

"I haven't taken anything in months." He explains and Derek can tell, the marks don't look fresh but they still look painful. Derek lets go of his wrist. Jackson turns his arm back around, draws it close to his chest and for a moment the air around them feels thicker, tenser.

"So we gonna do this or what?" The kid asks agitatedly and fucking a whore is one thing but a drug addict – or if what Jackson says is true ex drug addict – seems irresponsible. Derek knows it, irresponsible, reckless and a thousand other terrible things Derek doesn't care to think about because this doesn't involve him, Jacksons health is not his problem, neither is his past. This thing here and now is the only thing that involves him.

"Yeah." He says then again for clarification. "Yeah."

Jackson nods resolutely before he's pulling Derek in by the neck of his shirt, kissing him with a messy fierceness and lewdly grabbing at his crotch. He gropes him through his jeans, all hot high friction and pressure and Derek moans into his mouth, parts his lips and lets a gasp slip out.

Soon enough he becomes impatient because he wants to come, he _needs _to come. So when he pulls away to turn Jackson around the teen let's him, bows at the waist and braces his hands on the edge of the counter top. He whispers out hot little words that make Derek wonder if it's because of what he's doing or if it's because Jackson's 'job_' _demands this of him, demands he put on a good performance.

He shoves the teen's threadbare jogging bottoms down to mid thigh, licks his lips when he looks at the soft curve of Jackson's ass as well as the milky cream skin of his thighs. Derek fumbles with his jeans, hastily undoes the button and zipper and pulls his cock out through the space provided. A thousand things scream in his head at once, how much he wants to fuck this kid, well and truly own him, shove his face down onto the counter, ream him so he'll feel it for days. But the kid hasn't mentioned anything about lube or condoms so Derek does the only thing he can think of, pushes forward and slides his cock up the inside of the teen's thigh and Jackson must have done this before because he squeezes his thighs together, creates this hot tight little space for Derek to fuck into.

Jackson rests his arm on the counter, bows his head and breaths into the crease of his elbow. He's hard and he doesn't know whether to laugh at the ridiculousness of it or cry at the desperation of it because he's turned on. A client has turned him on and it's the most real he's felt in a long time, the most alive. The sensations only heighten- _worsen_ -when Derek kisses at his back and neck and Jackson wishes he could see Derek and not just feel the open mouthed kisses he's pressing against his freckled shoulder blades. But for the moment the feelings enough, the heady tandem of lips, teeth and tongue.

Derek thrusts forward again, harder this time, hard enough to drive Jackson's body into the counter, the line of it cutting into his chest. Still he just tightens his thighs, let's Derek cock slide between them, let's Derek drape his chest over Jackson's back and pant shallowly against his ear like he's running a marathon.

When Derek comes, copious amounts slicking the counter and the inside of Jackson's thighs he feels a weird sense of satisfaction that he has failed to feel with any of the other clients he has. Derek makes a small noise, it sounds wounded but content then he's reaching a hand around, warm and slightly sweaty to wrap around Jackson.

"Fuck." Jackson curses voice unrecognisable to himself as he jerks against Derek's hand, wraps his fingers around the outside of Derek's hand and changes the angle. He only realises he's shaking when he looks down at the hand he has splayed across the counter top. He squeezes his hand into a fist in an attempt to quench the shaking. It doesn't work.

He pushes his forehead into the counter when he comes, shoves a hand over the head of his cock in order to prevent it from striping up the counter, he catches some of it, the majority dribbling out over his fingers and dripping to the floor.

He feels wrecked and he's pretty sure he looks it too. He reaches across the counter, feels his face flush unbelievably hot when Derek's cock slides out from between his legs and grabs at the roll of kitchen tissue. He plucks some off at the same time that he stands, feels come slide down his legs. He tries to scoop it up in the tissue before it can run into his trousers and boxers.

He turns and passes some tissue to Derek who accepts it and whiles he's cleaning himself off Jackson does up his trousers and unabashedly checks out Derek's junk. He looks away when Derek looks up. He holds the tissue out for Jackson and the teen sneers because either Derek has a fucked up sense of humour or he just has an audacity that rivals even Jacksons.

"There's this thing called a bin." Jackson says inclining his head towards the corner of the room where there is one. Derek just stares at him and Jackson raises an eyebrow. "There's also this thing called cleaning up after yourself." Like he's going to throw away his client's soiled tissues.

Derek says nothing just looks constipated for a minute before he throws the tissues away, when he turns back around his jeans are done up properly.

"So were even now." Jackson says because he needs confirmation, he hates owing people it's just as bad as signing your own death warrant in the kind of place they live in.

Derek smirks. "Far from it." He replies and Jackson looks at him sharply.

"You said it was just one payment." Jackson says low, in an attempt to keep his anger in check.

"I said no such thing." Derek says coolly, he can feel the kid getting agitated and Derek doesn't know why it thrills him to know that with a few simple words he can make him this angry, can draw such a strong reaction from him.

"What do you want?" Jackson asks through gritted teeth making the words sound muffled and strained.

"Coffee."

"Coffee?" Jackson repeats disbelievingly. Derek shrugs. Jackson watches him for a minute. "Then were even?" Jackson questions cautiously. Derek nods in the affirmative although he's not sure that's entirely true, doesn't know if there's a part of him that would want to coax Jackson into giving him more sexual favours. Jackson looks reluctant but he nods then turns towards the kettle.

Jackson puts a coaster down on the small dining table Derek's sitting at before he places the cup down and Derek wonders how much of Jackson's life he thrives to keep methodical. Now that he's looking around he can see that the kitchen's spotless and from the kids appearance it's clear he looks after himself as much as he can. Derek's not bothered by mess, he can leave dishes in the sink for days. Can throw his clothes on the floor then pick them up and wear them the next day. Some say it's a character flaw. He would probably agree with them.

Jackson sips at his coffee, even with steam still wafting up from it. After a minute he sits down opposite Derek, compulsively runs his thumb over a crease in the thigh of his jeans.

"So the uh, the kid." Derek starts and Jackson just looks at him, raises both eyebrows. When he sees Jackson's not going to bite he elaborates. "Is she yours?" Jackson scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"Not one for small talk are you?"

Derek's not one for any type of talk but Jackson doesn't have to know that.

"Not that it's any of your business, but she's my sister." Derek wants to ask where his parents are but something about Jackson's posture tells him he shouldn't.

Jackson gets up a moment later and walks over to one of the kitchen drawers; he pulls out paper and a pen and scrawls something onto it. Derek pretends he's not watching out of his peripheral vision as the kid comes over and drops the piece of paper down in front of him.

Once Jackson's back in his seat Derek picks up the paper and stares at the digits on it. "My number, so you can call ahead of time. Can't have you turning up at my apartment every time you want a quick fuck, what will the neighbours think." Jackson comments and despite his best efforts not to, Derek smiles.

He doesn't know what to say, what he should say so instead he just grabs the handle of his cup, looks down at the deep blackness of it, he's always preferred white coffee.

"You got any creamer?"

Jackson passes it to him without a word and when Derek's done with it he makes sure to leave it on top of a coaster.


	3. Opiates

**AN- PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS.**

**Okay so this chapter took a bit of a dark turn.**

**There's mentions of past physical and sexual abuse to a child starting at the age of twelve and continuing to about fifteen years old. If this makes you uncomfortable in any way please refrain from reading it.**

** I've set the chapter up and it consists of flashbacks from Jackson's life and little snippets of the time himself and Derek have spent together. If the way I've laid it out confuses anyone can you let me know, so I can change it.**

Jackson was happy once – safe even – content in the secureness of his little nuclear family that consisted of himself, his mother and father and his newly born baby sister.

He remembers the wholesome feeling of family the Sunday barbeques where he'd huff at the portion of salad his mum would place onto his paper plate and the visits to the park every Saturday where he'd always stand on the swing, ignoring his father's admonishing pleas that he _sit_ on it. He'd disregard him every time, just cling tighter to the metal chains and close his eyes, feel the wind blow through his hair and think '_this is what it feels like to fly'._

Jackson remembers a lot of things from his childhood even after everything he's been through, even when his body and mind were muted and muffled from drugs he remembered.

Jackson's life ends - metaphorically - at twelve years old, brutally and unforgivingly torn away from him in a horrific clash of metal, tarmac and blood.

It's said that when you experience anything mentally scarring your brain will conjure up a way to abate some of the feelings of dread. It's said in time that you heal, that the sensations will fade to memories, that they'll be painful but not destructive. Everything in Jackson's life has been destructive, his relationships, his choices, it's only fitting his brain betray him too.

You see Jackson remembers everything from the night his parents died. The memory hasn't lessened it's still vivid except sometimes he feels detached from it as if he's seeing it but his body can't react – he's immobile – frozen, he's stuck reliving the same nightmare and is unable to _change_ it.

They were travelling in the car, the sky dark around them. They were coming back from a party but for some reason Jackson can't seem to recall what the celebration was for. Jackson was struggling to stay awake, head lolling against the car seat. His parents were still awake his mum in the passenger seat, his dad driving quiet words being exchanged between them. Jackson hated the idea of being asleep when anyone else was awake, in some ways he felt that he would miss out on something and he didn't like that.

His sister began to cry from her position in the car seat beside him and Jackson had started making the same '_shh shh'_ sounds his mum would always make to quieten her down except Jackson's mum must have had magic mummy powers because when Jackson did it she just screamed more.

His mum had turned to him with an indulgent smile. "Don't take it personally sweetie, Taya's just teething aren't you baby?" His mum said voice cooing at the end as she turned her eyes to her little girl.

"I'm sure I've got some teethers in my bag." His mum informed before taking off her seat belt better allowing her to lean forward and reach into the footspace where her handbag was.

This is where the imagines blur together in a sequence of screams and pain. Jackson remembers the bright taillights heading straight for their car, his father's startled shout then the screeching of tyres. The burning of rubber as the car began to spin. He had shoved forwards the only thing keeping him from smashing into the driver's seat his seat belt cutting into his chest and neck. His mother however wasn't wearing one. He remembers the smashing of the wind screen, the crash of glass, the thick sharp shards disbanding outward.

Jackson remembers sobbing at the pain he felt, the slick of blood streaming down his forehead, remembers his attempts to quieten his sisters wails of anguish, remembers his small fingers gripping onto the wolf teddy his parents had gotten him for his eleventh birthday.

/

Derek sees Jackson once a week, sometimes at Derek's apartment and other times at Jackson's. Derek prefers his own place because there's only one room at Jackson's and it's the one he shares with his little sister. There's something not quite right about fucking an underage boy in a room that's filled with cuddly toys and books that have more illustrations than words in them.

They'd practically smashed through the door to the bedroom at Jackson's one day kissing at biting at each other's lips. Derek had tripped over a worn looking grey and brown wolf toy, when they'd both looked down to see what he had stumbled over Derek had kicked the toy away and the last thing he expected was for Jackson to shove him and swoop down to pick the toy up. Jackson had demanded that he get the fuck out and Derek had been too confused to question it.

The next time they met Jackson had ridden himself on Derek's cock with such brutal enthusiasm he was surprised the teen hadn't pulled a muscle. After Jackson had sucked him back to hardness, then fucked him with his fingers. Derek had came so hard some of his ejaculate had hit the bottom of his chin.

When Jackson was redressing Derek had asked him what the extra orgasm was for. Jackson had just knelt over Derek's still naked form, covered only by his thin bed sheets. He'd kissed Derek deep and long before answering. "I cut our session short last week, I was making up for it. I don't like owing people." And it was fair of course it was because Jackson was a business man, they were simply making transactions except no matter how much money Derek spent on him Jackson wasn't _his._ Derek had breathed out deeply, pushed his hands up the back of Jackson's t-shirt to feel the curve of his spine. "You don't owe me anything."

/

Both his parents are dead and for some reason they get a child counsellor to explain this to him, as if witnessing their mangled bodies wasn't evidence enough.

Jackson's numb and understandably quiet after his parents die. Himself and his sister are taken into custody and have to stay at a law enforced person's home. It's uncomfortable. Jackson doesn't have any of his belongings except his wolf teddy but even that isn't the same, it's scraggly from where he's continuously pulled at its paws until eventually a seam had come loose, the black thread curled and hanging from its cotton stuffed foot.

One night he quietly gets out of bed and tip toes into the nursery room their keeping Taya in. She snuffles quietly in her sleep, the covers wrapped tight around her. Jackson stands there and watches her for a long while before unwrapping her a little and placing his index finger in her small palm. Her hand curls around his finger instinctively, even in sleep and Jackson releases a wet sob, breathing in an anxious shaky breath. He doesn't want the people looking after them to wake up. He barely gets to see his sister. The moment they wake up they're taken to offices where they have to talk to child councillors and by the time they get back to the house they have dinner and then it's time for bed.

Jackson's tired of lying to the councillors telling them that he's fine and he understands why his parents died, but he doesn't understand and he's not okay. He's lost and there's a constant sick feeling within him that is nothing physical but it feels dreadful and permanent, like a spreading disease.

His sister makes a small gurgling sound and Jackson runs his thumb over the expanse of her hand before sniffing.

"It's okay." He tells her. "I miss them too."

/

Jackson meets Gerard Argent three weeks after the car crash. He tells him he's here to make things better, that he can help Jackson.

Jackson's sitting in a pale green armchair, legs swinging back and forth, his scraped knees visible with the shorts he's wearing.

Gerard walks in and for some reason his presence makes Jackson want to draw in on himself. He seems austere. He kneels in front of Jackson.

"Jackson is it?" He asks and Jackson nods slowly.

"Nice to meet you Jackson, my names Gerard." He reaches a hand out and Jackson tentatively places his own into Gerard's watches as a smile filters its way onto the older man's face.

"I'm here to help find you and your sister a home." He explains and suddenly Jackson's all ears, keen to listen and cooperate. He can't be separated from his sister, he may be young but he's not an idiot, he's heard the lawyers talking saying they'll have to put them up for adoption because there's no immediate family to take them. They'll be separated and he can't let that happen his sisters all he has left.

"Together?" he asks around a thick swallow and Gerard places a hand on his knee, calloused palm fitting to the curve of his kneecap.

"Oh I don't know about that." Gerard says easy and smooth, leaning away slightly. Jackson pushes forward in an attempt to stop Gerard but he doesn't go far, his eyes do shine though like Jackson's just done something that's pleased him.

"I want to stay with her." He says and it sounds more like a plea than a demand.

Gerard looks contemplative for a minute, turning away before facing Jackson once again.

"I suppose I could make sure you stay together but it won't be easy. You see I have friends in very high places; they can get you what you need so you and your sister can stay together. But it's not going to be easy; I need you to do something Jackson. For me."

Jackson can barely contain the relief he feels, the child laced naivety that assures him that everything's going to be okay.

"Anything, I'll do anything." He says with conviction and Gerard smiles except this time it's not easy at all, it's predatory.

/

Gerard doesn't break his promise and he was right he does have friends in powerful places. He later finds out that Gerard is a lawyer, a pillar in the community. So it remains unsuspicious when he announces he wants to adopt Jackson and Taya. The adoption is quick and un-messy, but the exchange feels cold, too much like a transaction rather than the act of extending a family.

He eventually finds out what Gerard wants in return for helping him. Jackson understands the idea of sex but not the mechanics; it's not something a twelve year old thinks about so when Gerard tells him he wants to have sex with him, Jackson's confused and unsure.

"Things in life don't come for free Jackson. I helped you and now you owe me. Do you want to be separated from your sister forever? Because I can make that happen."

"No I'm sorry. I'll... I'll do it."

So he does.

/

Jackson sees Taya less and less. His days are planned out for him, methodical, controlled. He wakes up at seven twenty has a bath and brushes his teeth. At seven fifty he's downstairs and eating breakfast, in the car by eight o clock and at school by half past.

The house he lives in is big, he's certain he hasn't been in every room. It's never silent here, there's always noise whether it be the sounds of Mozart that Gerard seems to favour or the many visitors he has in and out at all times of the day and night.

As Jackson grows older, turns thirteen, his opinion on Gerard is mixed. He doesn't seem like a good man, unlike how he was when they first met.

He watches a video at school where they talk about bad people, strangers, people who will try to take advantage of children that are Jackson's age.

The teacher gets them to recite the phrases that the video encourages them to say.

Stranger Danger.

No.

Leave me alone.

Help.

Jackson doesn't join in once.

/

He meets Danny, one of Gerard's co workers just before he turns fourteen. He becomes one of the rare things in Jackson's life that makes him smile. One time he brings his laptop over and let's Jackson play on an online game where you have to shoot animated bottles off of a fence. Jackson gets the top score the first time he plays. Danny smiles, teeth white and large before he claps Jackson on the shoulder.

"Your good at that." He praises and Jackson feels himself beaming because the acknowledgment that he's good at something is something Jackson's always enjoyed, always revelled in.

There's a lady a redhead who Jackson isn't sure works for Gerard. Gerard insists Jackson call her Auntie Victoria but it makes him feel sick because aunts are supposed to be caring. This woman isn't. She has rotund cruel eyes and thin lips that Jackson has seen form a sneer many more times than they have a smile.

He's in the living room with Victoria and she's feeding a bottle to Taya who's grown up so much Jackson barely recognises her.

Her hair's thicker, still a platinum blonde but Jackson thinks the older she gets the darker it'll get because that's exactly what happened to his hair.

He pads over to Victoria, bare feet skimming over the laminate flooring until he's standing beside her.

"Can I hold her?" He tentatively asks and out of habit holds out his hands. His parents always let him hold her.

"Don't be silly dear; you're too young to hold a child." Victoria says and she attempts to make it sound caring and parental but Jackson can hear the tone beneath it, can sense her barely concealed disdain towards him.

Jackson hates this, hates her, hates the way she holds his sister. She holds her wrong. When Jackson tells her this she turns to him with bright angry eyes and tells him to hold his tongue. He screams at her, punches and shoves at her legs and yells at the top of his lungs because all he wants to do is hold Taya.

Victoria shifts Taya into one hand and with the other slaps him, a sharp backhand that sends him reeling to the floor, a bloodied cut on his cheekbone from a large ring that adorns her finger.

He doesn't get back up.

/

Derek's a complicated guy. He doesn't talk much but when he does it's as if he's saving up for the big things. It's as if he runs possible sentences through his head before saying them because he's worried about what people will think if he says the wrong thing.

Their lying in bed and Jackson doesn't make a habit of sticking around for the afterglow but he's sated and majorly out of breathe so he's allowing himself a few moments to collect himself.

Derek rolls onto his side and is quiet. Jackson can feel his eyes on him and Jackson let's him look but can't bring himself to meet Derek's gaze.

Derek lifts a hand slowly, cautiously, fingers twitching before he finally lowers them places them to the inside of Jackson's thigh where there's several track marks and Jackson's entire body tenses. Derek pulls back, he doesn't look apologetic and Jackson wonders if his ego refuses to let him show anything but carefully constructed indifference.

He contemplates if Derek's pushing his boundaries, if he's testing him when he leans down again and touches the track marks, this time with his mouth, a small brush of lips. This time it doesn't feel like he's being prodded and judged, it feels like Derek's accepting them and what the fuck does that even mean?

Derek shifts, pushes up on his knees lightly and presses a kiss to Jackson's stomach and for a moment Jackson looses himself in it, closes his eyes, feels his stomach tremble and releases a shaky breath. Only for a moment though because this is Jackson's job. Derek only paid him enough to fuck him once and they did that. Jackson should be gone already, half way back to his apartment, not still in bed with his client, not _revelling _in his touch.

"You only paid for one session." He blurts out and wonders why he feels so impertinent when he's just stating the facts.

Derek's lips still and for a moment Jackson wishes he hadn't said anything at all. The silence is deafening, he's naked and Derek's nose is still lightly pressed against his stomach.

"If..if you want to fuck me again you can, I just need the money." Jackson hasn't stuttered in years, hasn't felt the nerves that cause it.

"What about if I just wanted to do this?" Derek asks, presses another kiss to his skin, this time it's open mouthed and Jackson watches as Derek's lips part and his tongue smoothes out.

Jackson holds his lips tightly together, tries to keep the whimper in. He manages it, just.

He runs his thumb over the sharp jut of Jackson's hip bone before he kisses at the skin beside Jackson's bellybutton.

"Would you charge me then?" He questions, looks up at Jackson and the teen doesn't know what to say. Has never had a client want to do this to him. Whatever _this_ is.

Jackson's shoulders are still pushed up against the pillows, hands curled into loose fists by his sides. He shakes his head because he doesn't know if he's capable of speaking just yet. Derek seems to understand though, understands the permission Jackson's giving him. He looks quietly pleased, there's no smile but there's a suggestion of it in his eyes.

He kisses Jackson's stomach again.

/

When Gerard tries to take him to bed again its a few days after his fourteenth birthday. He thinks of the words from class, thinks about telling his teachers but then he realises that if he does they'll take Taya away and he can't be away from her, can't risk losing the only family he has left.

He lies on the bed and Gerard kneels over him, fingers running over his school tie, shifting to flick at the buttons on his shirt. He releases a thick sob, one hand fisted in the sheets as he looks up at Gerard and begs him not to do this again.

He remembers the pain from last time, the oddness but most of all the confusion because his body has never felt like that, has never felt so out of control.

He kicks up when Gerard doesn't stop, but the older mans bigger and stronger than him and he shoves the sleeve of Jackson's shirt up.

Gerard holds his wrist in a tight grip before tying a band around his upper arm. He presses a sharp needle at the supple skin of his forearm and Jackson stills at the feeling of it.

"Let's make you a little more complaisant shall we?" He mumbles voice smoke rough before he presses on the end of the injection plunger.

Jackson feels euphoria, feels loose and for the first time in a long time happy, artificial or not it's better than the alternative.

Jackson begins spending most of his days in bed, itching for more of the sweet nectar Gerard had given him. He wants it, it helped him forget; let him feel like he could fly, like he was standing on the park swing again.

He lets himself be willingly taken, opens his legs or slips down to his knees if it means he can get another fix.

It works until Gerard starts giving him less, starts asking Jackson to work harder for it and Jackson does because he needs the feeling the drugs bring.

Jackson knows it's gone too far, that he's reached the point of no return when he hears Taya crying, screaming her lungs out and he finds he doesn't care to do much about it. He just lies in bed and stares at the ceiling drifting in and out. Knew it had gone too far when Gerard left him without a fix for a week and he'd thrown up all down himself, laid in the foetal position on the floor of the bathroom and muttered to himself, body shaking with spasms.

Danny finds him and for a minute Jackson thinks he must still be feeling the effects of the drugs because it looks like Danny's body is vibrating but then Jackson see's the translucent wetness falling from his eyes and he releases that Danny's crying. Is shaking from his hiccupped sobs.

"You're crying." He slurs and feels Danny's large hands on either side of his face. His head just lolls like someone's snapped his spinal cord, he's debilitated.

"Oh god Jackson, what the hell have they done to you?"

Danny sounds upset and Jackson wants to tell him, wants to explain that Gerard has helped him has made him feel _so good._ But the words don't come out, nothing does. His eyes fall shut and when he wakes up the sick around his mouth has been cleared away and he's in bed.

/

Jackson almost forgets it's his birthday. That he's fifteen now. He spends it with a needle in his arm and Gerard between his legs. The sex gets better after time and Jackson doesn't know if it's the drugs that make it better or the fact that he's gotten used to it. His breathings slow and he can't get hard with the drugs rushing through his system but Gerard runs a hand through his sweat soaked hair and tells him he's been good, been _perfect_ and Jackson feels himself smile before he falls asleep.

Three weeks later Danny approaches him, Jackson barely remembers much of their conversation from beforehand but it seems like Danny's permanent casualness is lacking today.

They're in the study and Danny locks the door. For a moment Jackson's heart lodges itself into his throat and he thinks – how could he not – that Danny's going to demand the same things of him that Gerard does.

"I've got something for you." Danny tells him before pulling out a small bag from behind him. He unzips it and pulls out a syringe.

"It's morphine. This stuff is weaker; I'll have to use it to wean you off of what Gerard's been giving you."

Jackson frowns. "Why?" He asks.

Danny stares at him with wide eyes. "Jackson you can see how this is wrong, can't you? What Gerard's doing to you?"

Jackson closes his eyes. "I owe him-"

"You don't _owe_ him _anything._" Danny promises and he sounds a mix between rage filled and sickened.

"If I'd have known." Danny stops and swallows hard, looks Jackson directly in the eye.

"If I'd have known what he was going to do...going to do to you, I never would have helped him gain custody. Let me help you."

"How?" Jackson asks and detests the fact that his voice breaks.

"I can get you out of here, you and your sister but we need to get you off of the heroin Gerard's been giving you."

"I can't." Jackson tells him instead of admitting that he's petrified that if he does run Gerard will find him. Is scared of what Gerard could do to Taya if Jackson disobeys him.

"Yes, you can. Jackson I can get you fake papers, passports. Can give you enough money to get you started."

Jackson shakes his head, bites on his lip. "If he finds out you helped me..." He starts and Danny shrugs attempts at care free but his shoulders are tense and his eyes hard.

"I can get everything you'll need to get away within the next few weeks. Enough morphine to help you get off of the heavy stuff, it'll hurt like a bitch but you can do it."

Jackson's heart is pounding in his chest, a nervous sickening thrum. He wants to tell Danny that he doesn't know if he can do this but he's shown enough weakness already.

"Okay." He says and takes the morphine.

He runs away four weeks later on the eve of his sixteenth birthday. It's early in the morning and Danny arranges to pick him up outside of the house and drive Jackson and Taya to the closest bus station.

Jackson's watching the blur of street lights through the window, turns around to look at Taya sleeping in the backseat. He gets a sickening déjà vu at the same time he feels his throat clam up.

"Jackson?" Danny asks quiet and concerned in the driver's seat.

"I don't know if I can do this." He admits and leans forward, head between his knees as he shoves out harsh pushes of breath.

Danny pulls over on the side of the road, places a hand onto the middle of Jackson's back and leans down in an attempt to make eye contact with the teen.

"Jackson, yes you can. You are going to do this do you hear me. You have to. Look." He says then he's pulling Jackson up by the collar of his shirt and turning his face around so Jackson's eyes fall onto Taya.

"You see her Jacks, your baby sister. You're all she has and that's why you're gonna do this. Why you're gonna start a new life and get off of that crap you've been shovelling into your body."

Taya's his weakness, always has been. Even more so now that she's all Jackson has. Still though he feels tears in his eyes, a worrying sickness because Jackson still needs the morphine hasn't managed to wean himself completely off of it yet. And he knows what he's like with it, incomprehensible, useless. How is he supposed to look after a four year old and himself when he's still got a drug problem? When the high light of his day is sinking that needle into his flesh, poking through his veins until he feels semi normal again?

Jackson's strong though; he's lived through losing his parents, lived through losing his freedom and his innocence. He can live through this.

He turns around until he's looking out through the windscreen.

"Start the car." He says and Danny places a hand onto his shoulder, squeezes before he turns the key in the ignition.

/

He uses the money Danny gave him as a deposit for an apartment and the rest on food and clothes for Taya.

Jackson only has a few shots of morphine left so the first few nights he tries to do without it. He ends up shaking on the bed, his limbs ache and he whimpers in frustration, fingers scrambling at his hair then his arms, where he scratches obsessively.

He rushes out of the house and starts to run. He runs and he runs and he runs but still his memories chase him, his cravings chase him. He keeps running until it feels as if his tendons are stretched out, it's only then that he feels calm that he feels the cravings dissipate even if it's only by the slightest increment.

When he goes back to the apartment Taya's still fast asleep. Jackson slides his index finger into the curve of her palm like he did all those years ago. Her fingers curl around his and he thinks briefly that something's never change.

/

He searches for a job the next day, looks through the newspapers and visits the local diners and bars. He get's rejections from everyone. They all look at Jackson as if he's untrustworthy and he doesn't know why. Is it obvious he's not from around here? He keeps his arms covered so they wouldn't know that he's been using drugs. Or maybe it's the fact that he's carrying around a four year old with him. Either way he remains jobless, the heating cuts out because Jackson can't afford to pay for it. He burns through the money Danny gave him on food for Taya because she's still growing and she needs to eat. He goes without food but most of the time he doesn't have an appetite, can barely drink water without wanting to throw it back up again.

One day Taya starts crying and she won't stop. She's screaming and Jackson can't remember why, all he can focus on is the blood rushing in his head. The frantic beat of his pulse and the need for a hit.

He turns around and shouts at her to shut up. He grips her arm when she doesn't, shakes her and when she falls silent and stares at him with tear wet terrified eyes Jackson almost chunder's. This isn't who he is, he moved away to give Taya a better life not do this to her. Not treat her as he had been treated.

"I'm sorry Tay, I'm sorry. I'm just tired okay? How about we put you to bed?" Taya nods slowly but Jackson has a feeling that this is something she won't forget, something Jackson won't either.

He stays in the room until she falls asleep and then slips out into the night. He knows what he wants, he knows what he's looking for and he sees it in a middle aged bald man who's stumbling down the street.

When Jackson approaches him the man licks his lips, swings backwards almost dropping the bottle of alcohol he's holding.

"What are you doin out here kid?" The guy slurs around a leer and Jackson pushes away all the doubt, all the anger, all the self hatred and steps up to the guy, bites at his lip.

"Looking for some company." He says and the guy laughs. He drags Jackson over to an alley, shoves him down onto his knees, fucks his throat hard and throws the money at him when he's done.

Jackson throws up twice once he gets home but the heating's back on the next day and to him that's all that matters.

/

Four months later Jackson meets Derek.

/

Jackson drops Taya off at her pre-school and when he gets back to the apartment he's itching for a hit. Some days it's worse than others and today it's infinitely harder than it was yesterday.

His skin feels too tight and his throat clammy. It's times like these when Jackson wishes he could still contact Danny could ask his advice and listen to his soothing voice, assuring Jackson that he doesn't _need _the drugs. But Danny's not here and Jackson's itching for a hit so bad, the desperation unfathomable.

He thumbs through his phone, needing to call someone, anyone. He pauses when he sees Derek's name, gives himself a second to contemplate the consequences before he presses dial.

He picks up after four rings.

"Hello?"

"Derek." Jacksons not sure what his voice sounds like, but it can't be good with the way that Derek replies.

"Are you okay? What's happened?" And the god damned idiot actually sounds _worried._

"Hey! Jackson, I said are you okay?" Jackson briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts.

"I..no. No I'm not. I need a hit, I need one bad."

Derek's quiet for such a long time that Jackson pulls the phone away to check the screen, to see if Derek hung up, but he hasn't. Jackson watches as the numbers tick up indicating how long they've been on the phone together. One minute, twenty three seconds.

He hears a muffled sentence through the phone and rushes to place it against his ear.

"Wait what?"

Derek huffs indignantly. "I said I'll be right over just, don't do anything stupid." Before Jackson has a chance to reply Derek hangs up.

There's a hard knocking on his front door less than ten minutes later and Jackson opens it with his back turned, goes to lean against the wall in the hallway.

He watches as Derek shuts the door and approaches him weary faced.

"I didn't have anyone else to call." Jackson explains and realises how utterly pathetic he sounds. He had to call one of his clients to come and be a drug sponsor for him because he has no friends to uphold that position.

"I haven't had any withdrawals in such a long time, but today..." Jackson cuts himself off, takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes.

"I feel like my heads going to explode." He admits and he remembers what Danny told him, if the withdrawals get too bad he needs a distraction. Derek's distraction enough. He opens his eyes and Derek's watching him like he can't quite figure him out. He's on guard and confused like he sees Jackson in front of him asking for his help but he's not quite sure what to do with him.

Jackson can feel himself sweating, his skin heating up, the irritable beginnings of a fever so he lurches forward to kiss Derek.

"C'mon." Jackson whispers against Derek's lips, hands shoving at the older man's jacket.

"What are you doing?" Derek asks pressing a hand against Jackson's shoulder and gently pushing him away.

The teen squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth, fingers fisting in Derek's jacket.

"You're supposed to have a distraction when you feel the withdrawals kicking in, do I really need to explain how you're a distraction?"

Jackson can feel himself beginning to shake and he's so close to telling Derek to just get the hell out, to find some guy on the street to fuck so he can rid himself of this sick achy feeling. But then Derek's grabbing his hands, holding them between them and squeezing them by the slightest increment.

"I've got an idea." Derek says then his touch is gone and Jackson hears the front door being opened.

"Derek." Jackson says, frustrated and breathy because he _can't_ wait, he's being bombarded with all these sensations he thought had stopped; it feels unbearable, overwhelming in its level of affliction.

"Trust me." Derek voices and Jackson finds it in him to nod stiffly before he's following Derek down the stairs and into his car.

He taps his fingers against his knee as they travel to god knows where. Jackson looks out the window at the blur of buildings which soon turns into a blur of trees. The roads become dense and make way to grassy areas, then their driving through forestry. There's a dirt road path, clearly made by various cars having driven through the same spot. Derek's car flicks up dust from the path and it clouds up, covers his wind screen for a brief moment before dissipating.

The trees eventually thin enough to reveal a small grassy area and a large river bank. Derek parks up and without saying a word gets out of the car. Jackson follows close behind, feet feeling heavy like his bodies fighting against what his brains telling it to do. They reach the edge of the river bank where the grass is overgrown, softer and slightly yellowing towards the top of the strands.

"What are we doing her-"Jackson doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence because before he can he's shoved harshly and he topples over the edge of the bank crashing down into the water hard.

The moment he goes under, he feels his head pound, feels bits of river weed tangle up around his ankles. He flails his arms and pushes up to the water's surface gasping in a shuddering breath when he reaches the top.

"What the fuck, are you fucking insane!" He shouts hoarsely, blinking up at Derek as muggy river water drips down his face.

"Maybe." Derek says then he's taking his jacket and shoes off and crouching, pressing one hand onto the edge of the bank and jumping over until he lands in the water next to Jackson. The impact his body makes with the water sloshes it up and it hits Jackson's already drenched face.

Jackson still doesn't understand why the hell Derek pushed him into a goddamn dirty stinking river but it's pissed him the hell off. He goes to take a swing at Derek because really who the hell shoves another person into a river but the older man just catches his fist and shoves it away.

"What the hell is your problem?" Jackson barks, feels himself swaying with the strong current of the river.

"The withdrawals are gone?" Derek asks though it seems like he knows the answer. Jacksons too dumbfounded and quietly impressed that Derek had even done that, had thought this through enough to plan something like this. Jackson slowly nods. Derek nods back then their silent the only sounds the minute rustle of leaf covered trees and the slosh of water where it pools around their waists.

Whether he helped or not, Jackson's soaked and Derek's getting punished for it. Jackson pushes his palm against the water conjuring up a small wave that hits Derek square in the chest. The older man looks shocked then his eyes narrow with an inkling of mischief. He charges after Jackson and the teen'll never admit it but he lets out a squawk when he's tackled and slammed into the water. He drags Derek down with him and when they both break through to the surface it starts all over again. They wrestle, push and pull at each other splashing water in every which direction.

Jackson's face muscles begin to ache from the continuous cheek splitting grin he's got on his face but he can't find it in himself to care because for the first time in a long time, he feels like a kid, he feels _happy _and Derek's the reason for that, he's the reason for a lot of things Jackson's been feeling lately and he still hasn't decided if that's a good thing or not.

/

They haven't got long, Jackson said he's busy and by busy he means meeting up with another client and Derek doesn't even want to get into how nauseous the thought makes him. Jackson has him on the bed in no time, jeans messily shoved down to his knees. He bites at the inside of Derek's thighs, thumbs over the small, slightly curled hairs on his legs and then blows him like a fucking pro, fingers split slick and travelling down to curve over Derek's entrance. A slight bit of pressure and Derek's coming hard and fast down Jackson's throat.

Derek's body spasms, feet sliding against his bed sheets as he comes down from his orgasm. He feels Jackson pull away and his throat clams up with an odd sense of melancholy. He doesn't want him to leave, doesn't want him to get fucked by some sleaze. He pushes up and Jackson leans back to accommodate him, a confused frown on his face.

"Derek?" He questions, curiously and a little wearily when the older man pushes at his shoulder.

Jackson's hard, his cock prominent through his jeans and curling towards the left. Derek palms over the bulge and Jackson's eyes go wide.

"You don't have to." He says whisper quiet and Derek says nothing just starts undoing his zipper.

He curls his hand into Jackson's boxers, exhales heavily through his nostrils and just _watches _with a persistent kind of engrossment when Jackson's head tips back and a cut off moan creeps out of his mouth. He starts moving his hand up and down, small languid movements, with Jackson's boxers still on he can't move his hand much but he can move it enough. He takes his hand away long enough to open the buttons on Jackson's boxers and pull his cock out. He noses at Jackson's jaw line, presses warm wet kisses to his neck, revels in the sounds Jackson makes, quiet moans then broken gasps like Derek's _hurting_ him.

Derek hasn't blown anyone in a long time but that doesn't stop him from travelling down Jackson's body. His mouths level with Jackson's cock in a split second, fast enough that the teen doesn't notice the absence of Derek's hand until it's replaced by his mouth.

Jackson gasps then his body twists, back arching, legs tensing like he's not sure whether he should push up into Derek's mouth or pull away from it. Derek makes the decision for him, he curls his arm around the back of Jackson's right leg and it pulls it to the side, giving himself more room to manoeuvre his head. He lets Jackson's cock rub against the inside of his cheek, feels the heady salty taste of pre come dance over his tongue.

Jackson's hands travel down fingers gliding through Derek's hair and for some reason that makes Derek's face go hot and something sickly sweet stir in his gut. He sucks hard collecting all the excess saliva then moves up to lap at the head of Jackson's cock.

"Derek." Jackson says breathlessly and yeah Derek revels in that a bit. He reluctantly moves away from the lower half of Jackson's body when the teen pulls at the collar of his t-shirt. Jackson tugs him down, kisses him long and slow, languid slides of his tongue against Derek's own.

Derek reaches his hand down between them, jerks Jackson off his saliva slicking the way helping his hand to glide down more smoothly. All the while he kisses Jackson, let's the teen dig his nails into his shoulders; run his fingers through Derek's gel hard hair until he's coming, spilling all over Derek's fist and fingers.

They kiss breathlessly, noses bumping together and chests heaving.

Derek's not sure how long they stay like that, long enough that the come on his hand goes tepid. Jackson shifts beneath him and Derek pulls back enough to be able to look at his face.

"I have to go." Jackson tells him disconsolately and _fuck _he couldn't make his reluctance anymore prominent. Derek doesn't ask him to stay though because he has no right to. Jackson's just a boy who he rents, a boy who other people rent.

So he doesn't say anything as Jackson cleans himself up, doesn't say anything as the kid silently stands at Derek's apartment door as if he's waiting for something, doesn't say anything when later on in the day Derek sees him and Jackson smells like another man's aftershave.

He doesn't say anything.

Not one god damned thing.


	4. Volition

Its four o clock in the morning and Jackson's waiting by the docks for Derek to finish up his shift. Derek pulls up on the side of the curb and Jackson jogs over, brows furrowing when he can't open the door. He looks up to see childish glee in Derek's eyes before the older man leans over and pulls the door car lock up. Jackson rolls his eyes but there is a small amused quirk of a smile on his face. When he hops into the car he makes a loud sound something between a scoff and a gasp and covers his nose with his palm.

"Dude, you reek." He comments, spare hand going to scroll down the car window as Derek starts driving and lighting up a cigarette simultaneously.

"Don't make me rub my armpit on you." Derek jibes and Jackson sneers.

Five minutes down the road Jackson groans.

"Seriously though you like stink of fish." He says not unkindly and Derek shrugs, flicks his cigarette butt out through his window.

"I like it." He says and Jackson raises an eyebrow.

"You like smelling of fish?" He questions, outraged and Derek tsks.

"I meant my job jackass." Derek replies before taking a left.

"What's so fun about slinging fish around?" The kid asks, genuinely curious because honestly there's only so much fun you can have with hoisting slimy dead scaly things from one place to another.

"When were out in the boats getting the fish, that's the good part. The open ocean, hoisting up the sail. The thing about boats is that they can get you anywhere." Derek explains and Jackson purses his lips in thought. He's never been out of America, has never really wanted to. It's familiar if not a little repetitive but that's what he likes about it, he knows what to expect.

"Where would you go?" Jackson queries, fingers tapping at the plastic beneath the cars window.

"Wherever I wanted." Derek replies and the teen sometimes wonders if Derek has problems with sharing because he never elaborates, he gives you enough information, enough of an answer without actually _telling _you anything.

"Where would you want to go?" The older man asks a moment later and Jackson turns to face him, shrugs.

"I dunno, maybe Aruba. It's supposed to be nice there."

Derek nods. "Good choice." He comments. Their quiet for a little while, the radio on low in the background when Jackson notices they missed the turning for Derek's apartment.

"Hey where are we going?"

Derek looks around before blinking confusedly like he hadn't realised what he was doing.

"Kathy's all night diner, I'm starving."

Jackson rolls his eyes.

"Hey you try working a ten hour shift and tell me how you'd feel." Derek defensively says and Jackson smirks.

"Whatever."

They get the food as takeout once they get there. Derek orders half the menu and he's the type of complicated eater who has to have a different sauce on one thing and every bit of salad except onions on another just to be difficult. Jackson says he doesn't want anything but Derek orders him sweet potato fries anyway. The fries are beyond delicious and after they've eaten Derek parks up behind a mound on the opposite side of Kathy's diner's parking lot.

Jackson undoes his seatbelt and when he reaches across to kiss Derek, it tastes like the salt from the fries and the artificial sugar from the soda Derek drank.

They fuck in the backseat of the car and Jackson's petty sure he's caused himself some minor brain damage from his head continuously banging into the car window handle. He's on his back with Derek knelt between his legs, hips fucking back and forth until Jackson pulls him down, holds him tight and pants against his mouth, feeling too frenzied for proper kisses.

It feels filthy, filthier still because Derek hasn't even got his pants off for Christ's sake, there just pulled open at the front enough that his cocks out and Jackson's completely naked, back chaffing against the rough material of the backseats.

"Fuck me, _fuck me_." Jackson repeats, a heated mantra and he knows it's pointless because Derek already _is _but it's worth it because the words spur Derek on, make him shove Jackson's legs wider, grab the teens hips and pull Jackson back onto his cock. It hurts, but it hurts _good_, they'd scrimped on the lube because Derek only had a small amount left in the glove box of his car, so every drag of Derek's cock inside of him causes friction.

He wraps his legs tighter around Derek's hips, sweaty thighs sliding against the older man's rib cage. "_Faster_." He breaths until he can't anymore, until it sounds like he's hiccupping, every word and moan hitching and breaking as he drags his nails down Derek's shoulders blades, leaving stinging scratch marks behind.

Derek gasps Jackson's name, breath hot and sticky against his cheek, lips catching and dragging over the teens flushed face. It's absolute.

After they climax and Derek's catching his breath, face pushed into Jackson's sweaty neck; Jackson reaches up and drags his heated hand through a condensation laced window. Feeling the slight movement Derek looks up at to see what he's doing and scoffs.

"What? Everyone needs a _Titanic_ moment." Jackson shrugs when Derek sends him an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, except that car they did it in was a lot nicer than this one." Derek admits and Jackson laughs, a little punched out appeased noise.

"And I'm pretty sure neither one of them really reeked of fish." Jackson comments with a little smirk and in retaliation Derek nips at his shoulder. The sensations more pleasant than painful so Jackson tips his head to the side and raises his arms, hands smearing against the window except his time it isn't intentional at all.

They eat their left over takeaway as the suns coming up, sitting on the hood of the car. The city looks different at this time of day not as washed out as it usually is. The skies mostly blue at the moment with streaks of orange and pink brushed through it. It looks peaceful in a way that only ad's on the television are capable of providing.

"This city is actually kind of beautiful." Jackson says and Derek lies back against the hood, eyes on Jackson.

"Yeah." He sighs. "Yeah it is."

/

As a child Derek was observant. He had an older sister so watching her go through the troubles of puberty before him was somewhat irritating and fortunate. Irritating because she had a hell of a temper on her when she was on her period and fortunate because if he ever had trouble understanding something or his hormones annoyed the fuck out of him his sister would understand, would take his side if he ever got in an argument with his parents even if he was overbearing and in the wrong.

A flaw of being so observant was that Derek knew his parents were going to get divorced even before they announced it. They told him and his sisters after a family meal of roast beef. Said bullshit things about how it wouldn't change anything, how they'd still love him and his sisters equally. His mum wasn't any happier when Derek's dad left if anything she was sadder, more easily irritated and Derek hated it, hated coming home and watching his mum wallow in sadness, in bitter feelings when Derek's dad told her he'd started seeing someone else.

Watching her break apart slowly made him angry, made him want to scream at his mum to look after him and his sisters. She withdrew into herself and when one day himself and Laura went to wake her for breakfast and her stuff was gone everyone but Derek was surprised. She'd left a letter. Derek hadn't bothered to read it and sometimes he wonders if he should have. But what could she have possibly said that wasn't indicated by her leaving. That she couldn't handle her divorce or having to take care of her three kids. That she'd rather leave her children than have to face being alone, that she's taken the easy way out, that she's being selfish.

Laura had been crying, clutching the letter and shaking her head.

"I don't understand why she would leave, if she needed help we would have been there for her."

Derek shrugged from where he had been standing in the corner of the room. His eyes burned with the need to cry, but he wasn't going to, he wouldn't allow himself to feel something for someone who abandoned him.

"She couldn't handle looking after us, it doesn't matter she's not our problem anymore."

After a while Derek began to think that being emotionally closed off ran in the family because he too started shutting his feelings down, would ignore his sisters attempts to talk to him. He didn't want to talk; he didn't want to be close to anyone. What was the point? All that happened was that you placed your trust into someone and they used it to break you apart. Derek didn't want that, he didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to hurt him even if it was family because his mother proved that no matter how close you are to someone you can hurt them, relentlessly and unapologetically.

Derek had seen what love could do. He honestly couldn't understand it. It was completely incomprehensible. Why would you want to fall in love? To fall in love was allowing another person to hold utter control over you and your emotions. To be that open, to be that vulnerable with someone – it was simply careless.

/

Derek hasn't drunk in a long time; he doesn't have any tolerance for it. When he drinks its excessive to the point that he'll wake up the next day and have blanks in his memory. He rarely drinks but when he does, he likes to take full advantage of it.

He remembers being at the bar, a dingy country bar where the tables were sticky with spilt beer and the music of _Robin Loxley_ blared out through the speakers. The bright red lights hanging low from the ceiling had tinted everything a warm crimson and Derek felt his eyes lidding as he inclined his fingers and beckoned the bar tender over.

He was a pretty little thing, deep black hair that was noticeably dyed, rotund warm brown eyes and a lip piercing that looked fresh, the skin surrounding the silver bar having turned a harsh pink.

Pretty yes but not Jackson. Jackson who Derek finds is the reason he's drinking.

Derek doesn't like to feel, doesn't like to get close, to make himself vulnerable and it's a raw statement to his sanity that the first person he breaks these adamantine rules for is a whore.

Derek doesn't know what it is about him, what it is about Jackson that makes Derek care, that makes Derek wonder about him, wonder what his life was like before Derek met him, wonder what he's doing when Derek's at work or when he's lying in bed and listening to the loud clatter and gurgle of water rushing through the pipes beneath his thin apartment walls.

It's just after three in the morning and their closing up the bar. The bartender claps Derek on the arm, offers to call him a cab but Derek waves him off, ignores the tentative smile on the guys face.

He stumbles out of the bar, feels a hiccup rise up through his chest before he turns towards Jackson's apartment building. It's close to here; it's only when Derek's drudging up the stairs that he wonders if Jackson's got a client. Derek finds he doesn't care if he interrupts them.

He trips over his own feet, feels the rumble of his laugh before he rests his forehead against Jackson's apartment door. He grumbles Jackson's name before he knocks rasping his knuckles against the plastic door a few times before the knocks become harder and more closely spaced together. He hears muffled steps, the closing of a door before the apartment door inches open a tiny bit and he sees blue narrowed eyes glaring at him from the ajar space.

"Derek what the hell?" Jackson whispers furiously and Derek pushes his palms out on either side of his body and grins because finally Jackson's answered the door and Derek doesn't know why that feels like some sort of an achievement.

"You not gonna invite me in?" Derek asks resting his forearms against either side of the doorframe.

Jackson looks behind him and Derek watches as his fingers curl around the edge of the door where he's holding it open.

"Taya's asleep." Jackson says and it sounds like an excuse, like he wants to ask Derek to leave but isn't sure how to.

"And you're drunk; I don't want you around her like this."

Derek scoffs at the ridiculousness of that because only a few weeks ago he helped Jackson when he was itching for a fix and now the kids stressing over a little bit of alcohol.

"Says the junkie." Derek sneers and revels in the widening of Jackson's eyes. After what Derek had done for Jackson the kid should be thankful not sending him away the first chance he gets. It seems that if Derek's not paying him or helping him evade his withdrawals Jackson couldn't care less about him.

"Get the hell away from my house before I call the cops." Jackson says and Derek's sober enough to see how serious the kid is.

"I got money, how about if I pay you huh, will you let me in then?" Derek asks around a cruel grin, words whispered acerbically.

The door swings open so quickly Derek's alcohol addled brain takes a moment to register it but then Jackson's fist connects with his face and Derek falls to the floor.

He doesn't feel any pain but he knows he will tomorrow when he wipes at his nose, draws his hand back and sees blood coating his fingers. When he looks up the doors closed but when he shuts his eyes and listens closely enough he can hear Jackson's laboured breathes coming from the other side.

And sitting there on the floor, dejected and drunk Derek realises that this,_ this_ is why he doesn't allow himself to care because he fucks up. Every. Single. Time.

/

Derek wakes to a sharp banging against his apartment door. The first thing he does is groan, clutch blindly at his head then his nose which is _throbbing_. He sits up cautiously and feels his stomach do a little flip. His mouth makes a sticky discontent sound when he parts his lips and he sways before standing on shaky legs and making his way to the apartment door where the knocking hasn't ceased.

"Alright, alright." He grumbles loudly and hopes it isn't his landlord because he's paid his rent already god dammit.

He's running one hand over his sleep crusted eyes when he yanks the door open to see Jackson on the other side looking unimpressed and a little choleric.

Last night comes back in flashes, small sequences and on some areas it blanks out and he wishes he could remember. He recalls harsh words being thrown back and forth between them but he can't remember exactly what was said, he knows he was abhorrent though.

"Thought I'd come make sure you hadn't passed out in a puddle of your own sick." Jackson breaks the silence and Derek huffs.

He lets Jackson slide into the apartment, watches him pause by the bed before turning around to face Derek.

"I overdid it last night." Derek admits, hands feeling detached and uncouth where they hang by his sides.

"You were a dick last night." Jackson corrects and Derek scowls.

"What did you come here for anyway because if it was to gloat you can just get out." Derek says because he _gets_ it, he was an idiot yesterday but he doesn't need this kid to remind him of that fact, to taunt him about it.

Derek doesn't want to argue, thinks for a moment that it shouldn't be this difficult, that they shouldn't even talk outside of what they do but yet here they are. It seems like Jackson doesn't want to fight either because for once he's silent no sarcastic comments, no witty come backs.

"I fancy coffee." Jackson says and Derek looks startled for a moment before looking towards the kitchenette.

"I've got coffee." He replies and then they stare at each other for a minute before Jackson smirks. "Get to it then." The kid orders and Derek rolls his eyes before gathering the cups.

Their silent as the kettle boils, Derek running his index and forefingers over his sorehead and Jackson standing with his back against the counter.

Derek heaps two spoonfuls of sugar into Jackson's coffee before sliding it on the counter over to him and Jackson wonders when Derek found out about his coffee preferences and he contemplates if this is getting out of line. What they have. What they're doing. If any other person spoke to Jackson as Derek did last night he wouldn't think twice about cutting them out of his life let alone coming to see them the next day. But he had been worried, even after he'd slammed the door on Derek he wanted to open it straight back up, to coax him inside and make him sleep off the alcohol.

He doesn't realise he's staring into space until Derek nudges at his calf with his foot.

Jackson shakes his head before turning to Derek a small embarrassed smile on his face.

"Hm?" Jackson hums.

"Nothin." Derek mumbles hand wrapped around his coffee cup.

Derek leans down, head making a little abortive motion and Jackson keeps himself still, stares straight ahead as Derek inclines his head to press a chaste kiss to the smooth skin just beneath Jackson's ear. An apology. Jackson's fingers tighten around his mug to the point that the hot ceramic burns against his skin. He wants to lean into the touch, close his eyes and release a sigh but he _can't, _instead he uses his free hand and pushes at Derek's chest.

"You smell like cheap whiskey." He comments scrunching his nose distastefully and Derek rolls his eyes.

"I can take a hint, I'll shower." Derek says and Jackson nods, watches the older man gulp down his coffee before heading for the shower.

Derek doesn't say anything to him and Jackson's not sure whether to stay or not. He feels simultaneously excited and sick. This feeling growing inside of him is frightening and he can't contain it, what he feels, what he feels for _Derek_.The more time he spends with him the easier it is to believe in the illusion that what they have is something more, that it isn't just Derek paying to have sex with him. But in reality that's all it is and Jackson can feel himself forgetting that, can feel himself wishing it was more.

Calling it a bad idea is a complete understatement. Jackson doesn't even know anything about Derek, hell he doesn't even know his last name so to think they could have more is perpetually laughable. Jackson can't think of any circumstances in which this could work, not with Jackson's responsibility to Taya not with what Jackson does for a living.

With a light tremble in his body Jackson places his full cup into the sink and leaves before Derek exits the shower.

/

Jackson dropped Taya off at preschool in the morning and he's not due to pick her up for a couple more hours so he uses the time to clean the apartment.

He empties the fridge and frowns at some of the things he pulls out because he honestly can't remember when he brought half of them. He takes a break half way through to eat a cheese and crisp sandwich a strange concoction he'd always favoured. He eats slowly; mouth chewing but he can't really taste the food.

He does the bedroom last but when he picks up his pillow he gets a waft of aroma that he reluctantly recognises as Derek's aftershave. He grips the pillow a bit tighter, allows himself the luxury of pulling it closer to himself and breathing in the scent clinging to the cotton – if only for a minute.

He's dumping his clothes into a laundry bag when he hears a knock at the door. He shoves the bags down with a sigh before going to answer it. He doesn't expect the person on the other side and for a moment he freezes and he doesn't think dread exactly covers how he's feeling.

"You look well." Is the first thing Danny says when Jackson's opens the door. He considers slamming the door shut because why would Danny be here? And does that mean that Gerard's close behind? Danny said they couldn't remain in contact just in case Gerard found out and came after Jackson. Danny was never a bad person but he was around for a bad period of Jackson's life and seeing him brings it all back, makes him think Gerard could be around the corner.

"What are you doing here?" Jackson asks peeking around the corner of the door jam and down the hall.

"What are you-" Danny starts then shakes his head, an apologetic look on his face.

"I'm an idiot, god Jackson. I'm. I'm on my own; I came here to tell you something."

Jackson doesn't relax, can't allow himself to.

"Can I come in?" Danny tentatively asks and Jackson inches the door further shut. Danny breaths out a sharp breath.

"Okay." He says before he seems to puff himself up readying himself to say something, do something. "Gerard he's, he's dead."

The first thing Jackson feels is intense disbelief followed by a spark of retribution. When he feels his chest flare up with a lock of tightness though he finds himself confused. It feels as if someone's crushing his chest, squeezing his lungs and cutting off his breathing. He turns to Danny with wet eyes.

"What?" He asks. Danny exhales and smiles, it's a confusing smile like he's feeling too many things for it to completely make sense.

"He's dead Jacks. He had brain cancer." And Jackson doesn't know why but he cries. He starts to sob, breathes hiccupping. After a minute of stiff standing Danny pushes the door open the rest of the way and hugs Jackson. Jackson remains still for several long seconds, throat thick and breathes tense before he raises his arms and fists them into Danny's jacket.

"I don't...don't-huh-...even know why...I'm cry...crying." Jackson admits shakily and Danny squeezes him once before answering.

"It doesn't matter why."

/

Jackson can't make the tea so Danny does. He doesn't enquire where any of the cups or spoons are, just quietly and unobtrusively searches for them himself.

After he sets the cups down he sits in a chair opposite Jackson at the kitchen table.

"I know it's a lot to take it, I'm sorry I didn't think of a better way to tell you."

Jackson doesn't know how to reply so for the moment he doesn't, he just snuffles heavily.

"What happened with Victoria and the others?" Jackson asks, voice muffled as Danny runs his thumb over the rim of his mug.

"They inherited Gerard's life insurance then they left. Chris signed over all of Gerard's businesses to the county. I don't think he wanted anything to do with the family business, he was always less inclined to it than the rest of them." Jackson nods but he doesn't really feel his head moving.

"I came here because Victoria and Chris weren't the only ones who were due inheritance in accordance to Gerard's death." Danny says and Jackson looks up, frowns.

"What do you mean?" The teen asks.

"He left some for you too." Danny replies, tentatively and almost a little hopeful.

Jackson swallows then sneers. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" Jackson spits and Danny reels back eyes wide with shock.

"No." He replies shakily.

"Jackson this is a good thing, it's a lot of money and I mean _a lot._ You could do whatever you wanted with it, move out of this place, start looking at courses for school. I mean, this is your chance to start over again."

"With his money. Just...no...god no. I came here to get away from him, it doesn't matter if it's a lot of money Danny it's still _his_. "

"Jackson think about it, what are you going to do when you have to start paying for Taya's school things. This money will have you set up for life. After what Gerard did to you, you deserve the money; you don't have to feel guilty about it." Danny reasons.

"Don't you get it? If I take that money everything I've done since I left is a waste. I've been away from Gerard for months, months but I'm still the same person. I let strangers do what he did to me I can't-." Jackson's breathe hitches like he's got taffy sticking his lungs together.

"Maybe this is all I'm good for." He says narrowly avoiding Danny's eyes as the older man turns to him.

"God Jackson no, don't ever say that. Don't think that." He gently urges and Jackson stands abruptly, sniffles heavily snorting up thick amounts of mucus before he flails his arms.

"Why not! It's true. I couldn't find a job so I've been selling myself to whoever'll take me. Nothings changed." Jackson shouts, shoulders shaking with broken hiccupped sobs. "I'm still weak... still useless."

He got away from Gerard but he hasn't changed. He hasn't improved himself. Using his body as a tool in which to obtain things had been branded into his psyche at such a young age. He wanted to stay with Taya and the only way he could do that was to sleep with Gerard and now he needs money so he sleeps with people who will pay for it. He wants to change; he needs to but not with Gerard's money. He has to do things for himself.

"You are none of those things." Danny knows he's shouting but he's got a fire burning in his gut, the need to tell Jackson that this portrayal he has of himself couldn't be more wrong.

"Jackson you are the strongest person I know. You've had to deal with the death of your parents and the molestation from someone you considered your guardian and you lived through it. You didn't just endure it, you _survived_ it. "

"I can't take the money." Jackson says with finality.

"Okay." Danny replies almost as if he's telling Jackson that's it's alright, it's his choice he can do what he wants.

The teas cold by the time Jackson's sitting back down and is calm enough to drink it. He feels like an idiot now for losing it, for spilling all his feelings out but he won't apologise, he'll just look all the more pathetic if he does.

"I know you don't want the money, but if you do change your mind.-." Danny pauses when Jackson opens his mouth in protest. "_If _I said. _If _you change your mind just give me a call and I can push the paperwork through. "

Jackson nods.

Danny leaves soon after and Jackson feels like he's been hit by a freight train. Would it have been easier to of taken the money regardless of who it came from and what that person did to him? After all it's not about him; it's about Taya and what he can provide for her. At the moment he's barely making enough money, their scrimping. What is Jackson going to do when Taya wants to go off to college, when she needs study books and tuition fees?

He knows he can't stay here, not with how bad this neighbourhood is. It feels tainted here now that he's had a piece of his past show up. He feels closed in, claustrophobic and he wants to leave. Go to a nicer town; try to find a job so he doesn't have to sell himself.

He walks through to the bedroom and realises that he could fit himself and Taya's stuff into two bags easily. He's got a little money saved up from the last couple of sessions he's had with clients, enough to get them both a bus out of town.

He has no ties keeping him here, nothing to stop him from starting his life up somewhere else but somehow there's a part of him that realises he does. Derek's here. He has to tell him he's leaving because surely Derek would worry if Jackson just up and left without a word.

Jackson goes to tell Derek he's leaving and in actuality he has no reason to. There's nothing forcing him to but the thought of leaving without saying goodbye makes Jackson feel sick. It's like there's business between them that needs to be settled, words exchanged that maybe neither one of them have said before.

He knocks and each second he waits makes him feel more nervous, more unsure. The moment he turns to rush away Derek opens the door. He doesn't mention how Jackson left his apartment earlier he just smiles.

"Hi." Derek greets and Jackson swallows.

"We need to talk." He replies with trepidation and the older man frowns.

"Come in." He says and Jackson steps through to the apartment quickly and turns to face Derek, blurting his words out before Derek gets a chance to say anything.

"I'm leaving." He says and when Derek only blinks at him wide eyed Jackson elaborates.

"I'm leaving the city with Taya - tonight."

Derek closes off, face contorted in despondency. "Are you ever coming back?"

Jackson doesn't know why he feels sad, why he feels like he's throwing something away. He shakes his head.

Derek nods, jaw tensing like he's biting his tongue. Jackson doesn't know what to say, is unsure of what he wants Derek to say, what he wants Derek to do.

"I don't-." Derek starts before he cuts himself off.

"Why did you come here? You didn't have to tell me so why did you? Why'd you come all the way here to tell me you're leaving?" He gives Jackson an onslaught of questions and the teen doesn't even know where to start.

"I-." He begins then shuts his eyes, shakes his head.

"Do you want me to tell you not to go?" Derek asks.

"No." Jackson denies but it sounds weak and faux.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want me to. You could be half way across the state by now." Derek explains and Jackson grits his teeth, shoves his hands up roughly through his hair.

"It can't work, whatever we have, whatever _this is_ - it can't work." Jackson says the words sounding choked out of him and he prays to god that him and Derek are on the same page, that Derek feels something other than lust for him too otherwise Jackson's just made a fool out of himself.

He wants Derek and not just in a sexual way anymore. He wants all of him, with his over milky coffee, his ridiculously chunky eyebrows and the way he'll smile at Jackson like they've known each other for years. The way he loves the sea like drivers love a road, the way he touches Jackson, makes him feel like he's worth something.

"It's worked so far." Derek counters.

Jackson stays quiet and looks down because suddenly the concept of looking at Derek without being able to have him feels painful.

"It can't forever. I don't know the first thing about you." The teen says.

"Is that what this is about? The fact that we don't know anything about each other." Derek quickly asks and Jackson shakes his head because that's one reason but that's barely scratching the surface. There's so much more to it, too much more.

"Fine." Derek says before taking a step towards Jackson. "My name is Derek Hale, I'm twenty two years old, I grew up in California, and I've got two sisters."

"Derek." Jackson says quietly hand reaching out to grasp onto Derek's jacket sleeve. "Derek, stop."

Derek doesn't he leans forward pressing his forehead to Jacksons. "Before I picked you up that first time I hadn't had sex for over nine months."

Derek shakes his head, his forehead brushing against Jacksons, their noses grazing.

"I hate the thought of you being with anyone else, and when I look at you-" Derek swallows and Jackson closes his eyes shut tight, tries to ignore Derek's words but he can't, every confession is like a stab to Jackson's heart, a hit to his already fraying resolve.

"When I look at you I want more and I know you do too."

Jackson can feel the burning pressure of too much , just too much emotion, too much feeling, but beneath it all, all he wants is to kiss Derek so he does, fists desperate hands into the older man's hair and drags him down, kisses him hard.

It's rushed and desperate, he jumps up and Derek catches him, hands beneath Jackson's thighs as the kid wraps his legs around his waist. Derek moves them backwards until Jackson's pressed up against a wall. Jackson rolls his hips up, their kisses harsh and desperate.

When he pulls away they remain close, open mouths bumping together.

"Tell me." Derek demands. "Tell me you want it too."

Jackson curls his fingers around the nape of Derek's neck, presses a long peck to his lips before drawing back.

"I want it too."

Derek moves back until he's by the bed, he slowly lowers himself and Jackson clings on tighter until his knees are pressed into the mattress on either side of Derek's hips.

It's different this time, absolute, gratifying in a way that Jackson's not used to. Derek's hands slide up under his shirt, palms kneading softly at his hips. Jackson curls the hand he has on the nape of Derek's neck around to the front where he rests his hand on the older man's throat, fingers splayed. He uses that hand to turn Derek's head to the side and inches forward to kiss along his neck, teeth opening and closing against the supple, sun kissed skin.

Derek moans, breathy and stunted when Jackson sucks on his neck, pulls flesh into his mouth and lathers it with his tongue, releasing it briefly only to bite at it until the skin turns ruddy. Derek pushes his hands up under Jackson's shirt, lifting the top until it's bunched underneath the teen's armpits. Jackson leans back to let Derek remove his top and fling it to the floor.

Jackson's nails scramble at Derek's broad shoulders, fingers creeping into and stretching the collar of Derek's shirt as he rubs at his collarbone, undulates his hips back and forth. They pull away long enough for Derek to remove his top but before he can push it off of the bed Jacksons scooting back and leaning down to mouth at his chest. Derek hisses in a breath, hand fisting around his discarded t-shirt he has pressed into the bed sheets.

Derek places a warm palm over the back of Jackson's head, gently guides the teens mouth to his nipple where Jackson runs the slick flat of his tongue over the nub, lightly wetting the small dark hairs that are there. It's slow and torturous, overwhelming to the point that Derek doesn't know whether he wants it to stop or not. Jackson mouths up his front until his mouth is back on Derek's. The older man eases back onto the mattress, feels Jackson slide off of his hips and Derek opens his legs to accommodate him, pulls them together once Jackson's fitted snugly, his hips pressing down into Derek's.

Jackson leans up onto his knees to undo the clasp of Derek's jeans and the older man raises his hips, stomach muscles flexing with the movement as he lets the teen pull his trousers off. He throws them to the edge of the bed and they remain there before they slide off only to make a small jingling sound when they drop to the floor. His underwear's removed soon after and once it is he rolls them over, kisses at the curve of Jackson's shoulder while holding the teens other arm against the bed. Jackson thrusts up, breath stuttering, head turning to the side, his open mouth pressing against the corner of Derek's.

Derek turns his head, kisses him with feeling before going to undo his jeans. When they're both naked and Derek slides up over him he can see that Jackson's trembling a little.

"You're shaking." He murmurs worriedly and goes to pull away, to give Jackson a bit of room but the teen just shuts his eyes, pulls Derek into him with a hand clawed around his shoulder.

"I'm just – it's." Jackson pauses and takes a deep breath, opens his eyes slowly though he keeps them focused on the space between Derek's collarbone and pectoral.

"This is the first time it's going to mean something." He admits cautiously and when Derek doesn't reply he slowly ventures a look at the older man. What he sees almost takes his breath away, Derek's face is open, slightly vulnerable but he looks awed, as if he's grateful for this.

Derek wants to say something, something ridiculous about how it will mean something every time they do this but he's never been one for words so instead he kisses Jackson, open mouthed, slow and messy, thumbs rubbing back and forth over Jackson's cheekbones.

It's easy there's no other way to describe it. They aren't on a timer, there's no thoughts about other people it's just them, bare and sweaty spread out over Derek's white sheets.

Derek ends up on his side with Jackson spooned up behind him as the teen reaches around with a lube slick hand and starts guiding it up and down his shaft. Derek presses the side of his face into the pillow and gasps into it, bites at the cotton fabric when Jackson glides his fingers down to rub over his balls. On instinct Derek lifts one leg, raises it at the knee. He feels Jackson shift behind him, before his hand draws back and this time his lube slick fingers travel down the back of Derek until their grazing over his cleft and into the space where Derek's hot inside.

Jackson's thorough and the thrust of his fingers inside Derek is mind-blowing, has Derek releasing these punched out moans as he rolls his hips down into the mattress, cock a stark red against the white sheets. Jackson makes little dipping movements with his fingers, squelching sounds of lube loud in the air as the teen bows his head to bite and licks at Derek's ear and hairline.

Derek's ready to come, has been since Jackson put the first finger in, but now he's on three and Derek's aching with the need for an orgasm. He reaches behind him, wrist bent at an awkward angle as he taps at Jackson's hand. Getting the hint Jackson removes his fingers slowly and Derek shudders at the feel of lubricant sliding out with it, all lucid and warm.

The rubbery texture of the condom always feels strange as it's sliding between his cheeks but once Jackson's breeched him Derek doesn't care.

Jackson pulls out slightly, gives a small rotating movement of his hips when he presses back in and god it's fucking amazing. It feels like liquid gold spreading through his veins, shooting down his back and into his toes which are curling against the bed sheets, screwing them up and making creases in the fabric.

Jackson curls his arm around the inside of one of Derek's legs and pulls it up, opening Derek up further for him and it makes him slide deeper and fuck, _fuck _his fucking prostate. Derek jerks, shuts his eyes and concentrates on the long, sure way that Jackson's fucking him. Concentrates on the way Jackson's smothering moans into the back of Derek's neck.

Derek shifts slightly, rolls and Jackson goes with the motion, let's go of his leg until Derek's forehead is pressed into the bedding, his knees up under him and his ass raised. He's low enough to the bed that his cock drags up against it every time he pushes backwards and he lets the friction of it get him off until the sheets aren't just wet with lube but his come too.

Jackson takes a hold of his waist and snaps his hips forward, jostling Derek until the older man's breath is hitching on every shove inward and Derek loves it, growls out little words of encouragement until Jackson moans above him thrusting one more time then stilling as he comes.

Cleaning up after is half assed. Derek kicks the top sheet off and then they both lay on their sides knees touching.

Jackson closes his eyes, resting them for a moment because it's been a long day and he's exhausted right down to his bones, his muscles are aching just right and his head feels heavy. He knows he'll have to leave soon to get Taya from preschool but he can't bring himself to move just yet. He's too stuck on thinking about what himself and Derek just did. They've had sex before multiple times but now they've laid themselves bare, they know what the other wants but what if it doesn't work out. Derek knows entirely too much about him. It's dangerous. If they decide that one day they don't feel the same way for each other what will happen. How is Jackson going to work now? He can't maintain a relationship with Derek and still sleep with strangers.

"This is crazy." Jackson breaths out, eyes peeling open when he feels Derek's hand run over the curve of his shoulder.

"I know." Derek agrees, nice and easy but he doesn't elaborate so Jackson sighs.

"You know this isn't normal right? This isn't what people do. People don't pay other people for sex then ask them out. It's not normal."

"Were not normal." Derek replies and Jackson groans through clenched teeth.

"No but you are irritating." The teen comments and Derek shrugs.

"It's a talent."

There's too many things that could go wrong and Jackson's worried because this isn't just about him, it's about Taya too. He feels scared because there's a part of him that still thinks he doesn't deserve anything good, doesn't deserve to feel anything beyond disappointment and self loathing. He's not entirely sure if it's the aftermath of what he's been through or if it's just etched into his DNA, either way Jackson can't help but to think this way.

Derek closes his eyes and stretches, rubs the side of his face into his pillow.

"If one day this isn't what you want anymore, I won't stop you. I'll let you leave." Derek's keeping his voice carefully neutral and his eyes are shut so Jackson can't read anything on him, can't tell how he might be feeling. He can tell Derek's genuine though and he doesn't deserve that, doesn't deserve the trust and faith Derek's placing in him. He wants to tell Derek that he doesn't have anything to worry about, that he'll stay forever but he doesn't know if he will, can't possibly tell how he'll feel in a few months time, a few years time.

Jackson leans forward and kisses Derek's mouth lightly, keeps his lips pressed there until Derek reciprocates. "Thanks." Jackson mumbles against his lips and Derek nods. Their quiet for a few minutes, Jackson thumbing through the sweat cooled strands of Derek's hair. "So what now?" The teen asks and Derek opens his eyes, grins. "I hear Aruba's great this time of year."

/


End file.
